


Chasing Waterfalls

by whimsicalmuse



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-20
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:46:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Boyd is an unhappy tycoon living in London. Elijah is the maverick representative from across the pond that introduces him to a whole new world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

Billy Boyd wanted to rule the world. He wanted it all, the power, the recognition, and of course, the _respect_. He wanted to be a man that went down in history books and had public libraries named after him. He wanted the rapacious power so much so he could taste it, and it tasted bitter and metallic like gold dust and blood.

He knew the taste would be divine.

He had a plan, too – a grand design to tackle and conquer one company after the other, until calling him a force to be reckoned with would be a gross understatement. But first, he’d have to get through this merger, and survive negotiations with one Elijah Wood.

“I don’t like him.” Sean Astin groused, sipping his brisk tea and staring at the neat portfolio he held between thick fingers.

“Why not?” Billy asked, staring down at the stream of cars that pulled up to and away from their building – _his_ building.

“Something fishy about him. He’s a slippery one, I can tell you that.” Sean replied, as if the sentences full of American expressions would somehow clarify things for Billy.

For half a moment, Billy wondered if Sean ever felt like a small fish in a big pond, here in the folds of cold damp London, but he never got a chance to ask.

*

“Elijah Wood,” he grasped Billy’s hand firmly, a terse smile on his lips. They (his lips) were almost feminine, not unlike the rest of him. Billy was more curious to know how a lad, yes _lad_ managed to claim the reins to a company the size of Fidelity International.

Elijah sent a small sharp smile in the direction of Astin as introductions progressed, and he soon got an idea.

*

“What can this merger do for us?” Sean drawled, twisting his favorite pen between his fingers.

“Simple,” Elijah stood up, plucked the pen from Sean’s hand, and drew onto a notepad. “We can offer you a piece of unclaimed territory.”

He held up a poorly drawn map of the US and the UK, drawing a bridge between them.

“Besides, we know you’ve suffered from the conversion. The pound was stronger than the Euro and Dollar, yes?”

He was smug, and had a great deal to learn, Billy mused. First lesson would be in the art of restraint.

“Oh? Does Boyd and Associates strike you as an old mare that needs to either get some kick or be put out to pasture?” Billy smiled, looking at Sean for assurance, confidant in the game they played in serious meetings. Everyone always deferred to the man at the head of the table.

Elijah was no different. He turned to Sean, offering an explanation.

“We’re saying this merger benefits everyone. It benefits us, as we gain the edge in the UK markets. It works for you, as you get the second largest financial institution in the United States.”

Sean ran a thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes glazed over. He was thinking, and from the look of things, he was very unhappy.

Elijah, in his nervous fidgeting, had taken Sean’s favorite pen apart.

*

“We look forward to the formal presentation tomorrow, Elijah.” Billy clapped him on the back.

“Thank-you. I didn’t get your name; I do hope Mr. Astin isn’t too put-out over the pen. I’m sure there’s money in the budget for a new one.”

Billy laughed. Oh, the presumptuousness of this youth. He’d already made a budget, hmm?

“I know there is, Elijah. The name’s Billy Boyd.”

Check.

Elijah gaped for a blink of an eye, before grinning.

“See you tomorrow, Billy.”

The doors closed, and Sean huffed, his shoulders set to “I told you so.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I think that went rather well," Elijah announced, pulling at his tie as if it burned him.

_He’s like a lad playing in his Da’s clothes._

Billy sipped his tea, and nodded.

“It could have been worse,” he conceded. He still had a long road ahead to convince the board this was indeed a good thing, but they liked the lad and Fidelity was a reputable institution.

The hard part would be in the creative numbers they would have to show at the next quarterly meeting.

“So,” Elijah shucked his hands into his pockets. “Would it be presumptuous to ask the CEO and spokesman for Boyd and Associates out for a post power meeting drink?”

Billy opened his mouth. Was he…?

The phone rang and interrupted them.

“Hello? Oh, hullo love. Dinner? Oh um…well, today was a meeting love…”

He turned his back, lowering his voice.

“No no, you go ahead. No really. Tell the kids I love them. Cheers.”

No sense in rushing home anyway. It wasn’t like he saw the family he kept living in the lap of luxury. Besides which he was in no mood to fight congestion on a Friday night to eat again at Louis’. He detested French food anyway.

“I think that drink can be arranged.”

He smiled.

Elijah nodded, nervous as a kid who just asked a girl out to the dance, and pushed himself off the wall.

“Your car or mine, Bill?”

“Mine, you don’t have a driver.”

*

Billy had been to some dodgy neighborhoods in his youth, what with his father struggling so before getting the job at the bank, but the truth was, he’d gotten soft and forgotten what it was like.

Sometimes when the romantic side of his brain would rear up, he’d almost miss the place, but now, here, in the dank mist and piss smelling alley of London, he threw that sentiment to the wind.

He’d known Elijah was young, but truly didn’t grasp the full extent of this until he saw him without his suit and tie. In the clouded moonlight the man looked not much older than 12. Elijah led them to a hole in the wall sort of establishment, tucked down an alley that made his driver Viggo hesitate, though the man knew Bill well enough than to protest.

He merely raised his russet and silver eyebrows, and stifled a sigh, before eyeing the pistol he kept tucked in the glove compartment.

Elijah rolled on his heels, his shoes gritting against the damp cobblestone ground, waiting for the doorman to arrive and answer his call.

“Anyone home?” Billy breathed, his breath puffing out, only to be swallowed into the fog.

Elijah shrugged, narrowing his eyes. “It’s getting really foggy too, I hope they hurry up.”

“Aye the air is damp.” Billy wrapped his trench coat around him tighter.

Elijah, full of impulse and hurry, had left his in the Bentley.

“Hmm…” Elijah raised his eyebrows, peering at the thin eye slot on the door, a frown pursing his lips. More fog rolled in, as he turned to shrug at Billy, and though the men were but a few feet apart, Elijah disappeared behind the mist, until only his piercing blue eyes remained unobstructed.

Bill shuddered, and pounded on the door.

“What kind of place is this any way?” He groused, turning his heel to leave.

Elijah opened his mouth to protest, but then the door opened, revealing a young Asian woman in her twenties dressed to either kill or look killed in Billy’s opinion.

“Password?”

“Rainwater.” Elijah smirked, as she stepped back, beckoning them inside.

Billy chewed the side of his lip.

“Come on, Bill!” Elijah hissed his cheeks already pink in the folds of the heat of the place.

Though he didn’t know why, Bill stepped up, and into the club.

The place _was_ a hole in the wall, and very hot, to the point of being pleasantly humid. Balmy, that’s what his Da would have called it. Like Jamaica, or Hawaii.

Sweat leapt to the surface of his skin, settling onto his brow, thus reminding him of how overdressed and out of place he was in this establishment. Though it had all the trappings of a club (scantily clad women, men in tight pants, sex and drugs in their eyes, and a pointy headed DJ tucked in the booth - a fag that was more ash that cig dangling from his lips), there was no music, and no mass of gyrating bodies clung to the dance floor.

“Wow, this place is dead,” he murmured, shucking his jacket and placing it onto the cleanest looking barstool near him.

“You have no idea,” the barman muttered, wiping the counter down. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Billy rubbed his mouth, wondering at the selection of Scotch a place like this would have.

“I’ll have Guinness.”

“Tastes like pisswater.”

Billy turned, frowning at the purr that seemed to bounce from one ear to the other, curious to see the source of the voice.

“Oh? What would you suggest then?” And Billy eyed the man, a young bloke in his twenties it would seem, going for the heroin addict look if Billy had anything to say on the matter.

“Bah, just taking the piss,” the man smiled, revealing a row of jagged teeth. His smile took up most of his long face.

“Billy Boyd.” He offered his hand, wondering if he should have kept his gloves on.

“Dom.” The lad replied, keeping his hand at his side.

Billy nodded, and turned to his ale.

“So what do you think of this place?” Elijah sipped a bright blue drink, and motioned with his head.

Billy turned, surveying the crowd again. Typical dark London scene to him. Even this Dom fellow here was typical. Dark damp looking strands of hair that hung low into his eyes and around his ears. Skin so pale he was nearly translucent, the blue-green veins jutting out in his arms and neck sharply. Cords bobbed in his neck when he swallowed, and Billy shook his head.

“S’alright.”

“Not a great deal of music on now.” A new bloke, thin as Dom, but darker, olive skinned and a mop full of curls, remarked.

“Mmm, is that it?” Billy couldn’t care truly. He was a realist. He was out here playing this game to woo the lad for business, nothing more, and if he had to endure the miserable youth of London to seal this deal, so be it.

Elijah’s saving grace was that he was good at what he did, and in his several nervous meetings over the weeks, and slowly, slowly won Billy over.

Perhaps because he reminded him of himself, years ago, before marriage, responsibility and life set in.

While his mind wandered, so did Elijah, it turned out and in the end when he swiveled around, he found Elijah chatting up the DJ, tie swinging from side to side with his animated movements. That Dom fellow approached, kohl-lined eyes low and lidded, and after a few words, the DJ retreated to his box, and a low chord of music began.

The first few notes were a low base that thrummed so fierce and hard in his belly Bill had to shift in his seat. He hadn’t felt something like that since he’d gone to concerts as a kid.

The bass got louder still, until he could almost see it swirling around the room, drawing guests up onto their feet as it passed them in a wave. He watched, his head getting pleasantly light from the ale, as people emerged from the shadows and fell together, bodies in motion to the steady beat, arms clinging or waving to the heady metallic melody.

His eyes flitted over to Elijah, wondering if he would be on the stage, just like the two fellows that had spoken with them briefly were, but he wasn’t. He leaned against the wall, nearly empty drink in hand, bobbing his head, his gaze fixed on the curly haired fellow that was a friend of Dom’s.

Friend being a term he used lightly.

Said fellow and Dom were currently making eyes at one another that would have made Bill’s skin boil. As if he could feel his eyes on him, Dom turned, lips upturned into a thin smile, and stared unabashed at Billy for several beats before turning away.

The lights began to flash, a rainbow of color swirling around the room, pulling his face into the darkness and out again, in shades of green, yellow, and blue. In his fuzzy mind, Billy mused that he looked rather like a ghost.

A black woman joined him, shining red lips hovering near his pale throat, and Dom readily pulled her close, long fingers curling around her waist, as the two began to bounce to the music. They were a mass of dark and light, her rich brown hands sometimes curling around his neck, then on the small of his pale back, thick strong thighs parting his own, as their groins moved obscenely together.

They were all but fucking on the dance floor.

He looked then to the other fellow, to find he had pulled a dance partner too, a tall dark haired woman, Latin perhaps, her bronze skin and full hips shifting from side to side, as he gyrated behind her, his olive fingers hovering at the nape of her neck. Billy stared, his throat dry, as the man looked up over his brow, straight at Billy, and with a smile, pressed his lips onto her neck, in a feather light kiss.

She tilted her head back, mouthing something, and pressed her hands onto his ass, tugging closer, her firm belly twitching as he drummed his fingers there, toying with the top of her skirt.

“I need another drink,” he murmured, and turned to the barman, ordering the best scotch they had, and a double.

The burn felt good, felt _right_ , as he swallowed, his tongue darting to swipe the droplet that rested on his upper lip, his gaze once again on the dancing quartet.

He’d looked for Elijah, but somehow, the kid had slipped out of his sight, though he wasn’t overly concerned.

He could hold his own.

Bill turned his attention back to the floor, blinking slowly as the alcohol coursed through his veins, numbing his extremities. The lights flashed anew, the floor now packed and musty. Dom and the girl were still dancing, her leg lifted up and around him as he moved against her, leaning onto a column as they kissed. Their tongues tangled, and then she tilted her head back, a long corded vein throbbing and slick with sweat. Dominic lowered his head, tracing his tongue down the trail, and then tucked an arm under her, pulling her waist closer to his. The lights flashed yellow, and Billy blinked. He saw the flash of white teeth, Dom’s canines apparently, and as the lights pulled away, shrouding them into darkness, Billy blinked hard, wondering if he was imaging the sight of long sharp teeth sinking into her hot skin. He could nearly hear her gasp in painpleasure.

His pants got tighter, and he shifted, downing another gulp of the scotch, and shuddered. The lights flashed over to their corner again, and Dom was gone, the woman still leaning against the column, no doubt breathless.

Her neck was untouched.

You’re pissed, William.

The music had shifted to a new song, faster than the first, full of blaring angry lyrics, and he slid down his seat, his legs like jelly, and pulled out a small wad of cash, tossing it onto the bar. He turned around, dizzy, wondering where Elijah was, only to find himself face to face with him.

“Are you ready to go?” Elijah screamed over the music. His breath was sweet, as if he’d been eating candy. It made Bill’s stomach roll.

“Been ready.”

Elijah wrinkled his brow, laughing. “Jesus Billy, you’re drunk off your ass! How many have you had?” He peered over his shoulder and laughed harder, pointing to the collection of glasses lined up neatly behind him, turned upside down.

Billy frowned. He didn’t remember having so many.

“Don’t feel so good,” Billy mumbled, swerving as he stepped away from the bar. Elijah steadied him.

“Go outside; get some air to sober up. Your wife will kill me if you go home like this.”

“Where are you going?”

Elijah waved him off gently.

“I have to speak with the DJ before I go, I’m coming.”

Bill made his way across the club glad for the fresh air and cold once he got outside.

The bite washed away the sticky sweet smell in his nostrils, and settled his stomach. He dug into his pocket, and dialed Viggo.

Good man. He’d be there in minutes.

His fingers itched with the want for a fag, but he tossed that idea away. He’d not had one in over 10 years and he wasn’t going to let one night out with a kid change that. Shoving his hands into his pocket, he leaned against the wall, dizzy, tired, and weak, too weak even to dwell on what stains would cling to his coat when he pulled away.

The fog had rolled in, thicker than before even, and now he couldn’t even see the beginning or end of the alley, so he wouldn’t know when Viggo arrived until he was right on top of him, probably. Thankfully a wind was blowing in from time to time, moving the mist away, and revealing bits of the alley in its path. Billy stared for a few minutes, dully noting the sight of a trash can, or scurrying rat, but then a soft noise pierced the fog, the sound of scuffling feet, and Billy’s curiosity peaked. He stepped forward, squinting, silently begging the wind to kick up again, and when it did, he saw another wall, some 10 feet ahead of him. Pressed against the wall, was none other than Dom, and the curly haired fellow. Orlando--that’s what Elijah had said his name was at some point during the night.

The clink of a buckle echoed, and a large rodent scurried. Bill heard a low moan, as well as the unmistakable sound of clothes being dropped, and feet crunching down into the wet gravel. The wind blew again, making them fully visible for a moment, and Billy gaped, watching as Dom bent his knees, and hiked the taller man up, until his legs wrapped around his waist, as Dom sunk into him.

His groin stirred abruptly, and fiercely, which was impressive given the amount of liquor he had, and his hand dared to trail south, hovering over his zipper. Bill could see the flash of tan skin, and hear the wet sound of their bodies meeting, just as well as he heard Dom’s low grunts and Orlando’s breathless sigh. Dom pressed harder, shoving Orlando up again, until his back scraped against the wet bricks, though neither seemed overly concerned with the pain Orlando would be in, nor the ruined shirt. Dom’s lips sunk into Orlando’s throat, and then he buried his face into Orlando’s neck, whimpering as their bodies still moved.

Billy’s breath hitched, even as the heel of his hand pressed into his arousal, rubbing idly as he watched. The mist rolled in again, and as Billy dared to look up to their heads, he found Orlando staring at him, smirking, and devoid of all shame.

If Billy didn’t know any better, he’d say the man looked smug.

Not that the look stopped him from touching himself. To his distracted surprise, the burning look had him harder, and he increased his pace. He saw them through another gap, Dom kissing him, his eyes fixed on Orlando, and then turning, no doubt wondering what Orlando was staring at. As Dom craned his neck to look Billy gasped softly, snatching his hand away, and as he turned around to leave, he nearly ran into Elijah who was smiling at him thinly with dark eyes.

“Are you ready to leave?”

Billy took a breath, looked back, and then nodded.

“Aye.”

He saw nothing must grey mist.

 

He sunk into the soft seats and breathed in the familiar smell of velvet and leather, his eyes already heavy.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home, Viggo.”

“And…Mr. Wood?”

Billy looked over at Elijah, who seemed occupied with watching the rain washed streets of London swirl by.

“Take Mr. Wood to his hotel.”

A small voice reminded him that he should have invited him to his house, but he shoved that thought away.

He was not sure how he felt about allowing for a moment alone with Elijah outside of work or in public.

There was something predatory in the kid’s eyes.


	3. Chasing Waterfalls by starlikeshadow

When Billy was a lad, sometimes he’d feel twitchy inside. It would be as if a thousand ants were crawling beneath the rosy surface of his skin, and the urge to claw them out would be so overbearing, he’d sometimes wake from a sleep, nails already digging. But he never indulged in his desire, as that wasn’t allowed.

William Boyd Sr. never allowed for such indulgences.

Ethan was like a twitchy feeling inside.

Billy remembered when he saw him, a young raven haired lad from the city who’d come with his parents to visit Billy’s father. His face was long, his eyes were black as coals, and as soon as his lips curled into a wicked smile, something tugged, twisted, crawled in Billy, and he knew, yeah, he’d go for that.

So he did.

The only problem being that his father caught him in the act, and was less than pleased to find his son on his knees in the shed for a boy—a boy beneath is station at that.

He beat Billy soundly—too soundly perhaps, because Billy blacked out, and woke up to find his mother looking down at him with sad eyes. He motioned to touch her arm, just to feel the slide of skin beneath his fingers, but he realized he couldn’t, as his right arm was placed in a brace. The pain came then, darting down his neck to his fingertips, which he then realized were swollen.

His mother spoke, murmuring softly of how he “fell” and subsequently broke his arm, and that his father had to call in the physician before leaving town on business. Billy had been down this road enough to know better. His father had been the cause of his pain—yet again.

He begged his mum to stay with him, silently of course, as they never allowed such displays between them, but she didn’t get the message. She left with in a bustle of silk and the soft tap of her heels, and Billy was left to shed his tears alone, silently wishing his father would never come back.

He got his wish. The old man died in Edinburgh, supposedly in one of his offices; though rumour had it that it was between the legs of the young Mister Pentington, the clever accountant that had climbed the ladder to come within the ranks of his father’s inner circle.

But that story never carried far. Mister Pennington was whisked off to London, his father was buried on a hot day in August, and Billy spent his birthday in black, feigning tears for a man that he bore no love for.

It was no wonder he was such a fucked up individual.

Sometimes that twitchy feeling would return before a big event - he had it at his wedding, and nearly drowned in it the day his son was born. When his daughter Miranda came, he so wanted to tear at his skin, his nails dug into the inner curve of his wrist, and his wife’s mother commented on the bandage he bore when she took a picture of him holding his new daughter. She made him use the receiving blanket to cover it up.

He was glad she gave him the idea to cover up his anxiety, because today he’d need it.

It was the day of his bi-weekly meeting with the board members, who would want to hear what good their micromanaging of each stock and every loss and gain had shown of the climate the company would enter should they merge with the Americans.

It wasn’t just the pressure of the board that bothered him—he’d been well used to that. It was the fact that Elijah would be there.

That’s not to say that Elijah hadn’t seen him in those weeks since the hazy night in the club, he had—but Billy had made a point to invent or find some activity to do so that Elijah’s invitations to join him after work would be declined.

The problem being that tonight he had no plans.

He hardly saw Alison on a good day as it was, so it came as no surprise that she would whisk the children off to Spain with her “assistant” Derek who hailed from New York. That of course meant he’d the house to himself for 12 weeks, and in turn, no means of making up excuses.

He’d have to face that look that glowed in Elijah’s eyes whenever he saw him.  
Billy strode into the expansive meeting room, the tail of his blazer swishing loudly in the quiet of the room. He slung his briefcase down onto the black table, and let out a soft sigh of breath.

All eyes were on him. Elijah was not there.

“I think I’ll forgo the formalities, ladies and gentleman, and proceed with the order of business.” He pulled out his PowerPoint controller, and turned on the projector ready to drone on for the next two hours about what progress could be charted.

Elijah arrived just as Billy was wrapping up the meeting. He had the decency to look chagrined, but

Billy didn’t give him a second glance. He knew his anger would be detectable and it would do no good for the board to see Billy angry at the man he was trying to ease into the company. Instead, he softly requested to have a word with Elijah after the meeting.

Astin shook his head, and muttered something along the lines of “Poor kid,” as he collected Billy’s belongings to be put into his office. He was used to this, the other side of the soft-spoken Boyd, the side that was all flint and brimstone when someone or something fucked up. It wasn’t that Billy liked to be this way - it reminded him too much of his father — but when pressed, it was something he could not help but do.

Elijah must have been confident in something, because from what Billy could see, the lad didn’t even flinch when made the request, and not a single fidget rustled his clothes. Which, in turn, infuriated Billy.

“I find it difficult to assure an uneasy board that relying on your company is what they need to do, when you don’t pay us the courtesy of being prompt.”

“Billy, man, I’m sorry—“

“I’m not finished. You’re walking a thin line, Elijah, and contrary to what you seem to believe, I happen to know you need this merger just as much as this company needs you. You’d do well to remember that.”

Elijah jutted out his chin, defiant, but his eyes softened.

“I won’t tolerate this again. If you find yourself in a situation where you will be late, you will call, and make sure it’s a damned good excuse, or you might as well not come in. The deal will be over.”

“I understand.” His jaw was locked.

“Good.” Billy pulled his legs down from the table, and stifled a yawn. He’d been up late, researching the stocks and prospects of Elijah’s company, and now he had to go to dive into the pit of despair that was the day trading centre; a friend had some information he would only give in person.

Elijah seemed to recover quickly, and immediately fixed his face in what Billy had come to realize was the “will you go out with me?” face.

Billy held up his hand even before he could begin. “I’ve a business meeting I can’t be late for.”

“I know, I was just—“

“But we can talk later. Ring my mobile in 2 hours.”

Elijah’s face cracked a smile. “You’re serious?”

Billy silently asked himself the same question, and to his surprise, found he was. “Sure! The missus is out of town, and here’s a chance for me to have a stab at my former glory.”  
Elijah laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Fantastic! I’ll call you later then.”

Part of Billy winced at the volume in which Elijah spoke—he rather preferred people not know they associated with one another outside of the business, but he shrugged the worry off, reasoning that not many people were near the meeting room at this hour. Elijah bounded out the door, his mobile ringing suddenly, and left Billy to stare down at the streets of London, contemplating just what was so imperative for Sean Bean to speak with him about.

~

Sean Bean always stood out in the crowd for a variety of reasons, the most obvious of which was his incredible sense of style. Even in the thick of winter the man was impeccable, dressed in a sharp pinstripe suit and shining dress shoes, his hair neatly trimmed and styled.

He wore a goatee--something a bit racy for a day trader to do, but Bean reasoned that when you were as good as he was, you were allowed certain liberties. His track record substantiated that claim--and thus his employers were inclined to agree.

Billy had tried to woo him to his company, but Bean would have nothing of it - he enjoyed their friendship as equals, sometimes adversaries.

He watched as Bean weaved through the throng of people, his strong hands flexing and then relaxing as he collected a portfolio and his pack of cigs, and with a subtle nod of the head, motioned for Billy to meet him out back.

Once in the relative privacy of the pissy alley, he wasted little time in getting to the point.

“I don’t trust Wood, and neither should you.” He lit his fag, and held it between his thumb and index finger, squishing his face up menacingly as if the mere thought of Elijah would make him appear.  
Billy bit back a chuckle. He knew Bean better than to think he’d play about this.

“Oh? And this was the information your ‘informant’ wanted me to know?” He was incredulous to say the least. Though Bean was a man of his word, and a man who wasn’t prone to falling for cheap tricks, he did have a reputation of being a touch…paranoid.

“It was. And no, I can’t tell you what was discussed.” Billy made a noise of irritation. “Alls I can say is the lad is not who you think he is, and if I were you,” Bean gripped his forearm, leaning in close, as he eyes darted from side to side. “I’d keep your head on and your cock in your pants eh?”

From any other man, Billy would have boxed his ears. Any other man.

But Sean and he had a _history_.

“Sean—“

“You always want to believe people won’t do you wrong, Billy. Yet everyone you care about does just that.”

Billy fidgeted, twisting his wedding band nervously.

“Just…don’t fall for his charms ok?”

How could he promise something when he wasn’t sure if he’d already been duped? He felt tension knot his shoulders.

“S’not as simple as you’d think, Sean. I have to play nice - he’s the key to a multimillion dollar merger! A merger we need!”

“You don’t need it at that price, Billy!”

“What price?”

Sean darted around as he heard someone scuffle far behind them, and drew Billy in closer.

“Seven months ago, Elijah was in Italy, working to gobble up a small family bank…”

Billy nodded, his mind already wandering, picturing Elijah woo the passionate Italians with a face worthy of marble, and a brain as clever as a Peregrine.

“But I’ve a mate who goes down there for Easter break, and he heard a rumour…”

Billy’s eyes snapped up. “Yeah?”

“He said he heard that Elijah had—“

“Billy!”

Billy spun around on his heels his face ashen and Sean stifled his jump of surprise, casting Elijah a hard look. But Billy hid it well, his face creasing into a smile, as he eyed the gentleman behind Elijah curiously, nodding politely.

Elijah had been babbling all the while.

“This is Karl, he’s an associate of mine.”

“Sean Bean, and old friend.” Billy replied, motioning to Sean as he nodded at Karl. “And I’m Billy Boyd.”

Karl didn’t look all that trustworthy Billy had to admit. His hair was pulled into a shiny ponytail, but he was clean shaven and his eyes though dark, seemed warm. “A pleasure,” he replied, taking Bean’s hand firmly.

“Since we’re both here, we can just hitch a ride together, yeah?” Elijah added, and Billy wondered if the young man had taken a breath since he’d called his name.

“Sure thing, Elijah,” Billy agreed smoothly, shooting daggers at the looks Bean was giving Elijah. So much for the art of subtlety.

“Well…” Elijah ended lamely, motioned for the door. “Shall we?”

The men filed in, Bean’s lips still tight until Elijah ventured a few feet ahead of them. Sean nodded at an associate who was flagging him over urgently, and held fast to Billy’s arm.

“Remember what I said, Billy.” Sean hissed, before darting over to his friends.

Like an alarm had been raised, the floor erupted into a flurry of action, boards streaming numbers as Billy watched in a mixture of terror and exhilaration as the numbers began to undergo some great changes. Around him people were running, shouting, and when he saw his own company’s stock come up and stay up on the board of observation, he couldn’t find himself leaving.

“Boyd’s just announced their planned merger with the Americans!” Someone hissed as they shuffled by, and

Billy’s eyes watched as his competitors interests crumbled. A surprise indeed as the board had worried news of their merger would result in cheaper stocks as some might consider the merger a sign of weakness, but it was as if his competition threw their hands up and tossed their cards in, unable to compete with what would be the third largest private financial power in the western world. He felt his chest thud with pride.

And all the while Elijah watched, his face held in a confident smirk, his arms crossed as he watched the others tremble in fear, and re-group. This was why Billy had gone into his father’s business, and while it’d been years since he had handled his investments personally, he’d always loved the thrill of the chase.

He compared it to a horserace, or perhaps even a greyhound. And he was just another animal chasing after a white rabbit.

Hours later the fight was over for the day, and drained, Billy slipped out with Elijah without any ado, slipping into his car to be among the quiet support of Viggo with a sigh.

His company had done well today, and while the pressure to outdo that would be on, he also knew he’d have an easier time of convincing the board. Like it or not Elijah’s people were a good thing for him.

“Where to, sir?” Viggo asked shifting the gears.

“Wherever Mr. Wood wants to take us,” Billy answered a touch breathless from the night air. “We’ve some celebrating to do.”

His eyes landed on the man, who seemed small in the expanse of the leather, and Elijah smiled back.

Surely Bean had been mistaken in assuming this man was a problem. Over-eager, perhaps, but dangerous?  
Billy was not concerned.

“Turn left, Viggo.” Elijah announced as he sat up to watch the road. “And I’ll show you the way.”

 _Not concerned at all_ , he mused, as he let his head fall against the seat, hoping for a quick nap before the party.


End file.
